


Dance for the King

by BabyBat (BabyBatsCreations)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blow Jobs, Kidnapping, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBatsCreations/pseuds/BabyBat
Summary: Peter is a dancer sent to perform for the King's birthday celebration. He's heard stories about the king, though. Terrible stories. He plans to keep his head down in the hopes of only getting out alive.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 230





	Dance for the King

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt: If you’d still like dark prompts— how about a medieval AU where Tony’s a powerful lord or king who takes peter as a pet slave boy? I love ur writing sm, ur the bestest ❤️
> 
> An: I'll fix the tags when I can get to a computer, sorry if some are missing

The banquet hall was raucous as people gathered to celebrate the king's birthday. Peter and the other dancers stood off to the side, hidden behind a curtain. Anxiety was thick between them as they waited for their cue. Peter heard a sound like a bell and then the hall went silent.

"Thank you all for coming!" said the king. No one said aloud what they were thinking. That the invitations had been a formality. That to refuse the king would be to take one's own life. "I trust you're all enjoying yourselves, but I have been assured that our next entertainment is ready to perform for us. Let's start the music shall we?"

The music started, slow and pleasing. The dancers filed out in twos. The girls wore clothes of sheer fabric that wrapped around their chest and waist. The boys were topless wearing only pants of the same sheer material. Not a part of them was covered, merely exentuated by loose, flowing, fabric.

Peter stepped out when it was his turn. He swayed out onto the center of the floor and gave a bow to the throne without meeting the king's eye. He joined the other dancers, twirling, swaying, each move a parody of sex or a gesture which drew the eye to gaze at one's assets.

Peter felt himself shake, his heart beat too fast to be blamed on his movements. If he fumbled, he would be punished. It had happened before. Not to him, but he'd heard the story. This was his first time dancing for the king and he could only pray that he wouldn’t be noticed among the others.

As the dance came to an end, the dancers hurried into their positions for the next song. Peter stood second from the middle, just in front of the king. He kept his head down, arms at his sides, waiting for the music.

"Wait." The king's voice ran out and everyone in the room froze. "You."

Peter glanced up to see what unlucky individual had messed up only to find that the king's gaze was turned on him. He looked behind him to be sure, but it was only him standing there. Uncertain of what he was meant to do, Peter stepped forward, head bowed, and kneel in front of the King's table.

"Yes, your highness?" His heart pounded. His hands were cold. Everyone was watching him. He thought he might throw up.

"Come here," he said.

Peter raised from his bow. The only way to reach the king was to walk around the long table and behind the nobility to stand at his chair. Everyone watched as he did so. The king turned and gently caught his arm. He guided Peter around to stand just beside him. Then he looked out at the musicians.

"Begin," he said. The music began to play and the other dancers began to dance as if Peter weren't missing.

The king turned his full attention to Peter, ignoring the dance. His hand caught his chin and raised it. "Look at me," he said.

Peter finally looked into the face of his king. He was nothing short of handsome, rich brown eyes, a perfectly combed and groomed beard, even complexion. Nothing at all like the common folk who had spots from the sun and whose beards were dry and tangled. The grays at his roots detracted nothing from his beauty as it spoke of someone with the strength and wealth to survive a harsh world. Not that Peter could imagine the king's life ever being unkind to him.

The king smiled as they examined each other. "You're an awfully beautiful creature, do you know that? How you were overlooked I'll never know."

"Overlooked, sir?"

"Yes." The king ran his fingers over his cheek. "I keep a small collection of creatures like you. When I find out how you were hidden from me, someone will have to be punished."

Peter shuddered, cold with fear. The king stroked his cheek with his thumb and smiled darkly. "Don't worry, dear. It's not you I'm angry with. I could never be angry with one so beautiful and obedient."

It was a clear warning, Peter was sure. If he disobeyed, he should expect to be punished. Though he couldn't imagine yet what the king wanted from him that might make him want to disobey.

"What is your name, little dancer?"

"It's Peter, sir."

"Peter..." His fingers traced the line of his jaw. "It suits you. Come and sit on my lap, Peter."

Hands shaking, Peter turned and stepped in front of the king. His hands on his waist guided him back to sit on his lap. All the way back, his feet didn't touch the floor and his ass sat right on top of the king's considerable erection.

"Do you see what you've done," he said quietly, in his ear. The king's hands ran up and down his thighs. "With your delightful little dance? You move so beautifully. You are so beautiful, Peter."

"Thank you, sir." His breath caught as a fingers touched his cock through the thin fabric. Then up higher to trace the lines of his abdomen.

"You'll never dance for anyone else. Never sit on another lap. Do you understand me?"

Peter felt cold, sick. No. Oh no. "Yes, sir."

"You won't leave the palace grounds. You will come to my rooms whenever bid."

No. "Yes, sir."

Peter was chilled to the bone. The king meant to keep him. He meant to keep him as part of his 'collection'. He looked out at the other dancers. Only one dared to glance at him while the others pretended nothing had happened. The nobles did the same. How often did this happen? How often had they turned their heads while their king stole people away?

"Don't worry, dear one. You'll love being my pet. I know it's scary at first."

Peter shivered. The king's hand pet his thigh as he watched the dancers. Peter slowly settled into the man's lap, distracted by the dancing.

"That's a good boy," the king whispered praise in his ear as he settled against his chest. Peter's breath caught as his hand slipped between his legs. Between the dance and the petting, Peter was half hard which seemed to please the king.

"You are a good boy, aren't you?" he purred. "You're a special one. You must love this kind of attention." His teeth grazed Peter's neck, nibbling in a line down the side. Peter whined, squirming in his lap. His fingers trailed up finding a nipple and teasing it, pinching and playing. His other hand pulled Peter's leg further apart. Nervous, Peter tucked his hands into his lap.

"No you don't," chided the king. He took Peter's hands and raised them up, placing them behind his head so they were stretched high above him, leaving him open. "You don't get to hide from me, pet."

His hands went back to playing and teasing. Peter chewed his lip, trying and failing to be quiet. His whimpers seems to pierce through the music. His face burned, knowing that at least the closest nobles heard his cries. Then the king caught him by the throat, squeezing and pulled his chin up.

"Don't silence yourself, pet. I want to hear you. No music is sweeter than the sounds of a needy slave."

"Yes, sir," Peter gasped. The king released his throat. His hand slipped into his pants and openly stroked Peter's cock now. He quickly grew to full hardness, making sounds that seemed to echo around the room and drew the flicker of eyes that quickly turned away before their attention could warrant trouble.

The king held his chin, tilting his head to the side to again nibble along his neck. He sucked a mark into his skin, pressure growing until Peter whimpered and his neck was sore. He must have looked like a whore, spread open and whimpering in the man's lap. He was growing close to orgasm, his cock dripping, making his pants cling to him when the king's hand went away. He kissed Peter's neck. Then he took Peter's hands down from behind his head as the dance ended and the dancers repositioned.

"Down on the floor. On your knees," he ordered. Peter's face burned. With the music stopped, everyone could hear them. He slipped down and sat on his knees, head bowed.

"Right here, pet," the king said. He pulled open his pants and took his cock in hand. "This is what you need."

Peter felt like what he needed was to escape before it was too late, but the guards would hunt him down. He was obedient as the king lightly cupped the back of his head and guided him down. Peter shuffled forward to sit between his legs. He bent his head and opened his mouth. The first taste of cock on his tongue was a shock, but he quickly recovered himself before he could get into trouble. His face burned with humiliation and shame, but he did his best to suck on the head and work his tongue around. He needed to please the king if he wanted to keep breathing.

"Another dance!" the king demanded. He sat back in his seat, one arm resting on his chair, the other reaching for Peter, holding the back of his head.

Admittedly, he almost didn't hate it. Under the table, he wasn't so afraid, and the king's heated gaze wasn't so scary. It wasn’t so bad, working to please him, either. His fingers lightly scratched the back of his head as if he were a cat and Peter could just catch the sound of a low moan when he took him deep enough to swallow. He was almost enjoying himself.

In fact, he was so busy with the king's cock and staring up into his eyes that he didnt notice when the dancing stopped and the chatter resumed.

"Quite the pet you've found yourself," he heard a man say to the king.

"Oh, he's special for sure," the king said. "Send someone to prepare a room for my new pet."

"Yes, sir," they answered, though their tone was patronizing as though their deferment to the kind were unnecessary. Peter glanced up to see an older, balding man, with a round belly. Something about his beady eye made Peter feel unsafe.

"Look at me, dear," said the king. Peter's eyes turned back to him and he forgot about the other man. The king's gaze was almost adoring. Peter ate it up, quickly becoming addicted to his affection. The king ran his finger around his lips where they were stretched wide.

"You're going to be my new favorite, I can tell. Pretty little thing you are. And with such a talented little mouth. Can you make cum, sweetheart? Give me my birthday present."

Eager to please, Peter did his best, moving his head more quickly and stroking the base with his hand. The king sighed, clearly pleased. Peter watched his face, watching him grow closer, until finally the king held his head and coated his tongue in cum. He swallowed it all down and was pulled up onto the king's lap.

"That's a very good boy," he praised. He kissed Peter's lips. He tasted like sweet liquor, a luxury his whole village would have to chip in to pay for.

The king continued to kiss him while his hands roamed over his body. He felt up his ass, fingers slipping between cheeks to tease his hole. Peter's face heated.

"Never had your little hole played with?" he chuckled. Peter shook his head. "I'm going to give this little pussy all the attention it deserves, sweetheart, don't you worry." He kissed his lips again, making him melt.

"Lay over the table, gorgeous. It's time to eat." He winked and Peter shivered. He wasn't sure what he meant, but he obeyed. He slid down from the kings lap and bent over the dining table. He let his head rest against the hard wood so he wouldn't have to see all the eyes that watched him.

Warm hand ran up his legs to the band of his pants. Fingers curled in the band and pulled them down. Peter blushed against the table top. He was still as the king spread him open and his thumb over his hole, rubbing around and pressing just inside. He bent over him, breath warm against his skin. Teeth grazed his thigh. Then his warm, wet, tongue swiped over his hole. Peter gasped, his legs shook. He kept going, liking his hole greedily.

"My king," Peter gasped. His toes curled. Her heard the king behind him laugh.

"Good boy, hold still for me."

"Yes, sir," Peter answered. He'd follow any order for more of that. His tongue felt incredible, his ass so sensitive, and he pressed it inside, still licking, making a wet mess of him.

When he stopped it was all too soon. Peter felt dizzy with pleasure and hungry for more. It seemed silly now to have thought that he didn't want this. Now, he was desperate for any and all attention the king would give.

Dinner was being served now. Peter sat back again on the king's lap, side ways now, where he could see he. The king fed him his fingers pieces of roast duck and lamb, soft breads, and sweet fruits. Every now and then, while they chewed, the king would pet and play with him. Peter felt drunk. Everything was hazy with pleasure, but he was comfortable and content. He would give anything to sit like this forever. 

His king was greedy and cruel, but in a matter for hours, he had made himself a most loyal pet.


End file.
